


The First Hybrid

by TheHybridUnit



Series: The Hybrid Unit [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Doctor Who Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Daleks - Freeform, Doctor Who References, Episode: s03e05 Evolution of the Daleks, Gen, Hybrids, Revenge, Science Experiments, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Stand Alone, Time War (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHybridUnit/pseuds/TheHybridUnit
Summary: He didn't know who he was, what had happened and why. Was he even supposed to survive, or was it all just a cruel mistake?
Series: The Hybrid Unit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640263
Kudos: 1





	1. Resurgence

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short story taking place in the universe of Doctor Who focusing on a dalek who had survived the Time War.
> 
> \- Dalek hybridization story

What had happened? What, where, why? Just a fuzz, everything, just blank and meaningless, yet so unfamiliar and wrong. Was it possible to be a stranger in a place that does not exist? To feel an unbearable sense of repellentment from being trapped in a body that you do not have, yet so much despise?

The brain that had been inactive for years, with consciousness dead and useless, started to receive small electrical charges, slowly regaining its initial functions. The body convulsed, as muscles violently contracted from the sudden change. Those convulsions would surely cause damage to the body, if it wasn't for the thick liquid it was submerged in. Limbs uncontrollably danced around inside of it, occasionally gliding of the nearby walls and ceiling.

Eyes shot open, mouth gaped from a desperate need for oxygen, but both got filled with the oily liquid.

A survival reflex put an end to the slow, post comatose apathy. A violent push sent the poorly secured cover flying off the container and shredding over the floor in a million shining pieces, as the person inside rolled heavily over the edge. The fall was slightly broken by a number of tubes connected to his back, leaving the man's torso hanging a few centimeters over the floor, before disconnecting with an unpleasant, champing noise. A thin trail of blood left by the svinging catheters, spilled over the floor, mixing with bluish puddles of the strange substance.

The harsh landing helped to knock the remaining liquid out of his lungs, leaving him wincing on the glass covered floor, coughing. His blurred, still disoriented glance wandered restlessly over the room's ceiling with the motions of his head.

Overwhelming sensations, sounds, pain. The amount of information his brain received, completely new to him, no longer filtered and adjusted by the ever surrounding him machinery. It echoed within his skull, like deafening drum beats, through the newly created sensory organs. Chaotically moving, tentacle-like appendages now growing from his head, were persistently picking up vibrations of all frequencies.

The seizure didn't last long. His mind couldn't possibly handle this sensory flood, and shut down in an attempt to save its owners sanity, sending him back into darkness that he just had so brutally been torn out from.

As his body came to rest on the metal floor, drenched in cold, weakly steaming puddles, the room returned to its initial lifeless silence.

Deep underground, hidden within the deepest levels under the 102-story building in the heart of Manhattan. This small room had no chance to be found by anyone but the lingering echoes of shouting voices behind its walls. There was no place for it in the minds of their owners, as they were intangeling in their own conflict, playing a part in their own story.


	2. The Beginning of All

A strong metallic taste and a pulsating headache welcomed him, as his eyes opened for the second time. The strange liquid had dried, covering his body in a thin, sticky pellicle that crumbled even from the slightest movement.

For a few moments he just laid on the floor, fearing that the painfully strong sensations would return. But it seemed like his brain had managed to assimilate itself to the new conditions while he was unconscious, to the point that even the many glass shards that were digging their edges into his skin, were merely causing a slight discomfort.

Memories were still struggling to plant any images into his mind. Not able to remember who he was or how he got there, the man could only comprehend that something had drastically changed. Something horrible and irreversible had happened to him while he was immobilized after... After what?

The man slowly shifted the position of his head, letting the contents of the small and almost empty room flow into his view. His eyes met with a large object located in the furthest corner, the slightly worn metal shell was reflecting the dim glow of the remaining blue liquid, as well as its prior greatness.

His heart skipped a beat before continuing its run in an increasingly high tempo. The past events tumbled over him as he stared right at his own, old casing.

The great intergalactic war, the shooting, the screaming, the fire, the immense hatred. He had survived it all, he was still alive, but at what cost?

Only now he fully realized where the strange, alienating feeling came from. A gurgling noise escaped his throat, forcing itself through the clenched teeth as he helplessly squirmed on the floor, desperately trying to find a confirmation that what had happened, was not real. His trembling body, not quite obeying him yet, managed to get into a sitting position.

Humanoid.

Under the dead glance of the empty casing's eyestack, the former soldier was clenching his fists, shaking from the overwhelming rage. An inferior excuse of a dalek he was now. No, an impurity. There was no way his body had changed so much without some sort of genetic intervention. But who would have the audacity to do such a thing to him, to someone of his rank?

No longer able to lie idle, driven by the sheer hatred and lust for revenge, the humanoid dalek jumped up to his feet, only to crash right back to the floor, cutting himself up even more on the glass shards. 

With an irritated growl he made a second attempt to launch himself in a standing position, but the atrophied muscles and no sense of balance, let the gravity have its victory once again. Absolute and pure hatred had taken over the dalek's consciousness, drowning the pain, as his hands painted dark red swirls over the floor in a persistent strive to gain control over the situation. 

Little by little, determined to succeed at any cost, he managed to drag his body across the room towards his battle tank. The black-domed casing had suffered some major damage either from the explosions destroying the fleet, an image of which was still printed into the dalek's mind, or from the impact, when he'd landed on this abominable planet. 

A command, weak and raspy, sounded in the empty room. The dalek had lifted himself up a little, putting his weight on the front side of the casing. To his surprise, the battle computer within the wrecked shell was still functioning. He almost fell inside the casing, as the metal plates gilded open, obeying his words. With no hesitation the dalek climbed inside the familiar, but now so small and crammed, control center.


	3. Purpose

The surrounding machinery immediately connected its weiers to his head as the dalek took his place in the battle tank. The machine was not meant for humanoids, he could not ignore the discomfort of the nearby walls and multitudes of weiers that seemed to be crushing him alive, closing all access to fresh air. Unconsciously, he hunched together, trying to find the feeling of security and control that was present there before. His eyes focused on the screen, as the running numbers displayed the state of the casing's systems.

Weaponry - malfunctioned, Communication unit - malfunctioned. This casing was in no condition to be put into battle. He didn't know who his enemies were, but they had to be exterminated. And after that, what would be his objective after that? The empire was destroyed, he was sure of that. The only choice he had was following the general protocol: destroy all non-dalek lifeforms. But...

The dalek put all his strength into stopping the following thoughts entering his brain. He could not question, he was not supposed to. He had to remain pure, at least in his mind. He could be the only dalek left in existence, he had to ensure the survival of the superior race at any cost.

Turning sharply, he faced the door opening with cold persistence and determination. The sucker on the end of his manipulator arm connected to a padlock, placed on the door instead of a handle. The computer quickly found the right combination and the dalek silently glided out in the poorly lit hallway. Turning the dome to both sides, he proceeded to the right, following a low buzzing sound coming from the depths of the corridor. The first thing he needed to do was to investigate.


End file.
